erished the country; and in the name of Brutus, d'etating peace on a raft to the czar of Russia. contemplating defeat at the gallows of Leipsighe was still the same in litary despot! 715. CHARACTER OF BONAPARTE. He is fallen! We may now pause--before that splendid prodigy, which towered amongst us, like In this wonderful combat on. his affectations some ancient rain, whose frown-terr.fied the of literature must not be omitted. The jailerglance its magn ficence attracted. Grand, gloomy of the press, he affected the patronage of letters; and peculiar he sat upon the throne a sceptred the proser ber of Looks, he encouraged philosonermit, wrapt-in the solitude of his own or phy-the persecutor of authors, and the murderer ginality. A mind, bold, independent, and decisor printers, he yet preten led to the protect on of ive-a will, despotica its dictates-an energy learning the assassin of Palm, the s lencer of that distanced expedition, and a conscience-pla De Sael, and the denouncer of Kotzebue, he was ble to every touch of interest, marked the outline the friend of David. the benefactor of De Lalie, of this extraord nary character.-the most extra- and sent his academic prize to the philosopher of ordinary, perhaps, that in the annals of this world. England. Such a medley of contradictions and ever rose, or reigned, or tell. Flung into life, in at the same time such an individual consistency, the midst of a revolut on. that quickened every were never un ted in the same character. A energy of a people who acknowledge no superior. royalist-a republ can, and an empeior-a Mohe commenced his course, a stranger by birth, hammedan-a cathole and a patron of the synaand a scholar by charity! With no friend, but gogue-a subaltern and a sovereign-a traitor his sword, and no fortune, but his talents, he and a tyrant-a christian and an infidel-he was, rushed in the last-where rank, and wealth, and through all his vicissitudes, the same stern. in genius-had arrayed themselves. and competi-patient, inflexible or gnal-the same mysterious, tion-fled from him. as from the glance of desti- incomprehensible self-the man-without a modny. He knew no motive, but interest-he ac- el, and without a shadow.-Phillips. knowledged no criter on. but success--he wor716. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. Pause, shiped no God, but ambition. and, with an eastern devotion, he knelt-at the shrine of his idolatry. for a while, ye travelers on the earth, to con Subsidary to this, there was no creed, that he template the universe, in which you dwell, What did not profess, there was no opinion, that he did and the glory of him, who created it. not promulgate; in the hope of a dynasty, he up- a scene of wonders-is here presented to held the crescent; for the sake of a divorce, he your view! If beheld with a religious eye, bowed before the cross: the orphan of St. Louis, what a temple-for the worship of the Alhe became the adopted child of the republic; and mighty! The earth is spread out before you, with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins-both repos ng amidst the desolation of winter, or of the throne, and tribune, he reared the throne clad in the verdure of spring-smiling in of his despot sin. A professed catholic, he im the beauty of summer, or loaded with autum prisoned the pope; a pretended patriot, he impov nal fruit;--opening to an endless variety of he grasped, without remorse, and wore, without beings--the treasures of their Maker's goodshame, the diadem of the Cesars! Through this mess, and ministering subsistence, and compantomine of policy, fortune played the clown to fort to every creature that lives. The heav his caprices. Ath's touch, crowns crumbled, beg-ens, also, declare the glory of the Lord. gars reigned, systems van shed, the wildest theo- sun cometh forth from his chambers-to scatres took the color of his whim, and all that was ter the shades of night-inviting you to the venerable, and all that was novel, changed pla- renewal of your labors-adorning the face ces with the rapidity of a drama. Even appa- of nature-and, as he advances to his merirent defeat-assumed the appearance of victory-dian brightness, cherishing every herb, and his flight from Egypt confirined his destiny-ruin every flower, that springeth from the bosom itself--only elevated him to empire. But if his of the earth. Nor, when he retires again fortune was great, his gen us was transcendent; from your view, doth he leave the Creator decision-Bashed upon his councils; and it was without a witness. He only hides his own the sam to decide-and to perform. To inferior intellects his combinations appeared perfectly splendor, for a while, to disclose to you a imposs ble. his plans perfectly impracticable; but, more glorious scene-to show you the m in his hands simplicity-marked their developmensity of space, filled with worlds unnumment, and success--vindicated their adopt on. His person--partook of the character of his mind; if the one-never yielded in the cabinet, the other-never bent in the field. Nature-had no obstacle, that he did not surmount, space-no opposition, that he did not spurn; and whether amd Alpine rocks, Arab an sands, or Polar snows, he seemed proof against peril. and empowered with ubiquity! The whole continent-trembled-at beholding the audacity of his designs, and the miracle of their execution. Scepticism-bowed to the prodigies of his performance; romanceassumed the air of history; nor was there aught too incredible for belief, or too fanciful--for X. pectation, when the world-saw a subaltern of Corsien-waving les imperial flag--over her most ancient capitals. All the visions of antiqu tybecame commonplaces in his contemplat on kings were his people-nat ons were his outposts; and he disposed of courts, and crowns, and camps, and churches, and cabinets, as if they were titular dign taries of the chess-board! Amid all these changes, he stood-iummutable as adamant. It mattered bitle, whether in the field, or in the drawing-room-with the mob, or the levee cobin bonet, or the iron crown vising a Braganza, o' espousing a Hapsburg The bered, that your imaginations may wander, without a limit, in the vast creation of God. What a field is here opened, for the exer cise of every pious emotion! and how irre sistibly do such contemplations as these, awaken the sensibility of the soul! Here, is infinite power-to impress you with awehere is infinite wisdom-to till you with admiration-here is infinite goodness-to call forth your gratitude, and love. The corres pondence between these great objects, and the a lect ons of the human heart, is estab lished by nature itself; and they need only to be placed before us, that every religious icel ing may be excited.-Moo tie There is so great a fever in goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enou.h alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accursed; much upon this rid. dle runs the wisdom of the world. news is old enough, yet it is every day's news.--Shakspeure. This 718. THUNDER STORM ON THE ALPS. shore, 719. MATERNAL AFFECTION. Woman's charms are certainly miny and powerful. The expanding rose, just bursting into beauty, has an irresistible bewitchingness; the blooming bride, led triumphantly to the hy ap-mencal altar, awakens admiration and interest, and the blush of her cheek fills with delight ;--but the charm of maternity, is more sublime than all these. Of flowers-yet fresh with childhood; on the He is an evening reveller, who makes Heaven has imprinted, in the mother's face, which claims kindred with the skies,--the something beyond this world, something angelic smile, the tender look, the waking, watchful eye, which keeps its fond vigil over her slumbering babe. These are objects, which neither the pencil nor the chisel, can touch, which poetry fails to exalt, which the most eloquent tongue, in yain, would eulogize, and on which all deser ption becomes ineffective. In the heart of man lies this lovely picture; it lives in his sympathies: it reigns in his affections; his eye Deep into Nature's breast. the spirit of her hues.looks around in vain for such another object The sky is changed! and suck a change! O on earth. Maternity, extatic sound! so twined round our hearts, that they must cease to throb, ere we forget it! 'tis our first love; 'tis part of our religion. Nature has set the mother upon such a pinnacle, that our infant eyes, and arms, are first uplifted to it; we cling to it in manhood; we almost worship it in old age. He, who can enter an apartment, and behold the tender babe, feed.n ́on its mother's beauty--nourished by the tide of life, which flows through the generous veins, without a pant And this is in the night: Most glorious night:ng bosom and a grateful eye, is no man, but a monster. 720. TO MARY IN HEAVEN, My Mary, from my soul was torn. Where is thy pace of blissful rest ? Hear'st thou the groans, that rend his breast 1 Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Those records dear, of transports past; Ah! Ittle thought we 'twas our last! Though in their souls, which thus each other, Thy image, at our last embr see! his way, Itself expired, but leaving them an age [wage! The brightest though these parted hills hath Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene. The birds sag love-on every spray, Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. And fond'y broods, with miser care! Time, I ut the impression deeper makes, Where is thy place of blissful rest 1 1.1 doers-are i thinkers. 721. RICHARD. Now-is the winter-of our discontent- Our bruised arms-hung up for monuments: And now-instead of mounting barbed steeds, 722. THE REJECTED. Not have me! Not love me! Oh, what have I Sure, never was lover so strangely misled [said? Rejected and just when I hoped to be blessed! You can't be in earnest! It must be a jest. Remember-remember how often I've knelt, Explicit y telling you all that I felt, Remember you've worn them; and just can it be I don't mean my gifts-but you will break my Not bank notes-no, truly, I had none to send! But, madam, you are not worth fighting about; Ile comes not-I have watched the moon go down, Though he should sparn me. I wil ca'mly bear [lay I woul!, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, And talked about polson, in accents so wild, I once was exceedingly stout, and robust; I rode by your pal rev, I came at your call, open into some before unexplored hall in the sacred temple of truth. The multitude rush And nightly, went with you, to banquet and ball.es in, and wonders that the portals could have remained concealed so long. When a brilliant discovery or invention is proclaimed, men are astonished to think how long they had lived on its confines, without penetrating its nature. But to act, that each to-morrow And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches-to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, Heart-within, and God--o'er head. We can make our lives sublime, Footsteps-on the sands of time; Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwreck'd brother, With a heart for any fate; 爨 722. No EXCELLENCE WITHOUT LABOR. The education, moral, and intellectual, of every individual, must be, chiefly, his own work. Rely upon it, that the ancients were right-Quisque suæ fortunæ faber-both in morals, and intellect, we give their final shape to our own characters, and thus become, einphatically, the architects of our own fortunes. How else could it happen, that young men, who have had precisely the same opportunities, should be continually presenting us, with such different results, and rushing to such opposite destinies? Difference of talent will not solve it, because that difference very often is in favor of the disappointed candidate. You shall see, issuing from the walls of the same college-nay, sometimes from the bosom of the same family-two young men, of whom the one-shall be admitted to be a genius of high order, the other, scarcely above the point of mediocrity; yet you shall see the genius sinking and perishing in poverty, obscurity, and wretchedness: while, on the other hand, you shall observe the mediocre, plodding his slow, but sure way-up the hill of life, gaining steadfast footing at every step, and mounting, at length, to eminence and distinction, an ornament to his family, a blessing to his country. Now, whose work is this! Manifestly their own. They are the architects of their respective fortunes. The best seminary of learning, that can open its portals to you, Learn to labor, and to wait.-Longfellow. can do no more than to afford you the oppor- forming our notions of human nature, we are 724. DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE. In tunity of instruction: but it must depend, at very apt to make a comparison betwixt men, last, on yourselves, whether you will be in-and animals, which are the only creatures, structed or not, or to what point you will endowed with thought, that fall under our push your instruction. And of this be as-senses. Certainly, this comparison is very sured-I speak, from observation, a certain truth: there is no excellence without great labor. It is the fiat of fate, from which no power of genius can absolve you. Genius, unexerted, is like the poor moth that flutters around a candle, till it scorches itself to death. If genius be desirable at all, it is only of that great and magnanimous kind, which, like the condor of South America, pitches from the summit of Chimborazo, above the clouds, and sustains itself, at pleasure, in that empyreal region, with an energy-rather invigorated, than weakened, by the effort. It is this capacity for high and long-continued exertion-this vigorous power of profound and searching investigation-this careering and wide-spreading comprehension of mind, and those long reaches of thought, that -Pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep. Where fathom line could never touch the ground, And drag up drowned honor by the locksThis is the prowess, and these the hardy achievements, which are to enroll your names among the great men of the earth.-Wirt. 723. LIFE IS REAL. Tell me not-in mournful numbers, Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave-is not its goal; Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 2c2 favorable to mankind! On the one hand, we see a creature, whose thoughts-are not limited, by the narrow bounds, either of place, or time, who carries his researches-into the most distant regions of this globe, and beyond this globe, to the planets, and heavenly bo dies; looks backward-to consider the first origin of the human race; casts his eyes forward--to see the influence of his actions upon posterity, and the judgments which will be formed of his character-a thousand years hence: a creature, who traces causes and ef fects-to great lengths and intricacy; extracts general principles from particular appearances; improves upon his discoveries, corrects his mistakes, and makes his very errors profitable. On the other hand, we are presented with a creature-the very reverse of this; limited in its observations and reason. round it; without curiosity, without foresight, ings-to a few sensible objects which surblindly conducted by instinct, and arriving, beyond which-it is never able to advance a in a very short time, at its utmost perfection, single step. What a difference is there be twixt these creatures! and how exalted a notion must we entertain of the former in comparison of the latter.-Hume. SURE REWARDS FOR VIRTUE. There is a morning to the tomb's long night, A drowning fly, I shall not live in vain. I had rather see some women praised extraord narily, than to see any of them suller by detraction 725. EMMET'S VINDICATION-IN FULL. My Lords-What have I to say, why sentence of death should not be be pronounced on me, according to law? I have nothing to say, that can alter your predetermination, nor that it will become me to say, with any view to the mitigation of that sentence, which you are here to pronounce, and I must abide by. But I have that to say, which interests me more than life, and which you have labored, (as was necessarily your office in the present circumstantes of this oppressed country,) to destroy. I have much to say, why my reputation should be rescued-from the load of false accusation and calumny, which has been heaped upon it. I do not imagine that, seated where you are, your minds can be so free from impurity, as to receive the least impression-from what I am going to utter-I have no hopes, that I can anchor my character-in the breast of a court, constituted and trammeled as this is-I only wish, and 4 the utmost I expes, that your lordships-may suffer it to float down your memories, untainted by the foul bath of prejudice, until it finds some more hospitable harbor-to snelter it from the storm, by which it is at present buffeted. Was I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty by your tribunal-I should bow in silence, and meet the fate that awaits me, without a murmurbut the sentence of the law, which delivers my body to the executioner, will, through the ministry of that law, labor, in its own vindication, to consign my character to obloquy--for there must be guilt somewhere: whether in the sentence of the court, or in the catastrophy, posterity must determine. A man, in my situation, my lords, has not only to encounter the difficulties of fortune, and the force of power over minds, which it has corrupted, or subjugated, but, the difficulties of established prejudice.-The man dies, but his memory lives: that mine may not perish, that it may live, in the respect of my countrymen, I seize upon this opportunity-to dicate myself from some of the charges alleged against me. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port; when my shade shall have joined the bands of those martyred heroes, who have shed their blood on the scaffold, and in the field, in defence of their country, and of virtue, this is my hope; I wish that my memory and name-may animate those, who survive me, while I look down, with complacency, on the destruction of that perfidious government, which upholds its domination by blasphemy of the Most High-which displays its power over man, as over the beasts of the forest-which sets man upon his brother, and lifts his hand, in the name of God, against the throat of his fellow, who believes, or doubts, a little more, or a little less, than the government standard-a government, which is steeled to barbarity by the cries of the orphans, and the tears of the widows which it has made. [Here, Lord Norbury interrupted Mr. Emmet, saying, that the mean and wicked enthusiasts who felt as he did, were not equal to the accomplishment of their wild designs. -I appeal to the immaculate God-I swear by the throne of Eleaven, before which I must shortly appear-by the blood of the murdered patriots, who have gone before me-that my conduct has been, through all this peril, and all my purposes, governed only, by the convictions which I have uttered, and by no other view, than that of their cure, and the emancipation of my country-from the superinhuman oppression, under which she has so long, and too patiently travailed; and 'hat I confidently and assuredly hope, that, will and chimerical as it may appear, there is still union and etrength in Ireland to accomplish this noblest enterprise. Of this, I speak with the confidence of intimate knowledge, and with the consolation that appertains to that confidence. Think not, my lord, I say this for the petty gratification of giving you a transitory uneasiness; a man, who never yet raised his voice to assert a lie, will not hazard his character with posterity, by asserting a falsehood on a subject, so important to his country, and on an occasion like this. Yes, my ords, a man who does not wish to have his epitaph written, until his country liberated, will not leave a weapon in the power of envy; nor a pretence to impeach the probity, which be means to preserve, ever in the grave-to which tyranny consigns bin. [Here, he was again interrupted, by the court.] Again, I say, that what I have spoken, was not intended for your lordship, whose situation I comniiserate-rather than envy-my expressions were for my countrymen: if there is a true Irishman present, let my last words cheer him in the hour of his afflic tion [Here, he was again interrupted. Lord Norbury said he did not sit there to hear treaso..] I have always understond it to be the duty of a judge, when a risoner has been convicted, to pronounce the sentence of the law; I have, also, understood that judges, sometimes, think it their duty to hear, with patience, and to speak with humanity; to ehxort the victim of the laws, and to offer, with tender benignity, his opinions of the motives, by which he was actuated in the crime, of which he had been adjudged guilty; that a judge has thought it his duty so to bave done, I have no doubt-but where is the boast ed freedom of your institutions, where is the vaunted impartiality, clemency, and mildness of your courts of justice? if an unfortunate prisoner, whom your policy, and not pure justice, is about to deliv er into the hands of the executioner, is not suffered to explain his motives, sincerely and truly, and to vindicate the principles, by which he was actuated. My lords, it may be a part of the system of angry justice, to bow a man's mind by humiliation-to the purposed ignominy of the scaffold; but worse to me than the purposed shaine, or the scaf fold's terrors, would be the shame of such foul and unfounded im putations-as have been laid against me in this court: you, my lord, are a judge, I am the supposed culprit; I am a man, you are a man, also; by a revolution of power, we might change places, though we never could change characters; if I stand at the bar of this court, and dare not vindicate my character, what a farce is your justice? If I stand at this bar and dare not vindicate my character, how dare you calumniate it? Does the sentence of death, which your unhallowed policy inflicts upon my body, also condemn my tongue to silence, and my reputation to reproach? Your executioner may abridge the period of my existence, but while I exist, I shall not forbear to vindicate my character, and motives-from your aspersions; and, as a man to whom fame is dearer than life, I will make the last use of that life, in doing jus tice to that reputation, which is to live after me, and which is the only legacy I can leave to those I honor and love, and for whoan I am proud to perish. As men, my lord, we must appear on the great day, at one common tritual, and it will then remain-for the searcher of all hearts-to show a collective universe, who was engaged in the most virtuous actions, or actuated by the purest mrtives-my country's oppressors or [Here, he was interrupted, and told to listen to the sentence of the law.] My lord, will a dying man be denied the legal privilege of exculpating himself, in the eyes of the community, of an undeserved reproach, thrown upon him during his trial, by charging him with ambition, and attempting to cast away, for a paltry consideration, the liberties of his country? Why did your lordship insult me? or rather why insult justice, in demanding of me, why sentenes of death should not be pronounced? I know, my lord, that form pro scribes that you should ask the question; the form also presumes a right of answering. This, no doubt, may be dispensed withand so might the whole ceremony of the trial, since sentence was pronounced at the castle, before your jury was empanelled; your lordships are but the priests of the oracle, and I submit; but I insist on the whole of the forms, [Here the court desired him to proceed.) I am charged with being an emissary of France! An emissary of France! And for what end? It is alleged that I wished to sell the independence of my country! And for what end? Was this the object of my ambition! And is this the mode by which a tn bunal of justice reconciles contradictions? No, I am no emissary; and my ambition was-to hold a place among the deliverers of my country; not in power, nor in profit, but in the glory of the achieve ment! Sell my country's independence to France! And for what i Was it for a change of masters? No! But for ambition! O, my country, was it personal ambition that could influence me! had it been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my education and fortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed myself among the proudest of my oppressors? My country was my idol; to it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment; and for it, I now offer up my life. O God! No, my lord; I acted an an Irishman, determined on delivering my country-from the yoke of a foreign, and unrelenting tyranny, and from the more galling yoke of a domestic faction, which is its joint partner and pipetrator, in the parricile, for the ignominy of existing with an exte rior of splendor, and of conscious depravity. It was the wish of my heart to extricate my country, from this doubly riveted despat |